Frequent Flyer, Unintended Destinations

They say that if you've charted a course for a particular destination but you're off by even just one degree, you'll travel the requisite time or distance but end up many miles from your intended location. Human error can account for a lot of those moments in our lives—we make wrong career choices, a relationship goes bad, we ignore sound advice from those who know more than we do—and we learn from that. But what I'm consistently finding out is that sometimes Heavenly Father sets the bearings for our journeys, even though we think we're in control.

Putting this into words is only hitting me now, but I see how this all started a number of weeks ago when an acquaintance from high school sent me a message on Facebook.

This girl was three years younger than me and quite shy. A number of months ago she sent me a message thanking me for having been kind to her years ago. I was shocked she even remembered that I had spoken to her then. I'm just glad I was helpful, not hurtful.

This time around she expressed interest in serving a mission and asked me to share some of my thoughts on what had been the best part, the hardest part, and what advice I would give someone that is going to serve or is considering serving. Those are questions I've been asked before, though not for a long time. When I had just come home from my mission it was pretty easy to rattle off some answers because the experiences were very fresh. Now that I've been home for three years (as of tomorrow, August 24), the memories aren't quite as sharp, but the most important lessons are very much ingrained in my heart and more easy to see.

This is my mom and me in the
Houston airport in 2014.

I decided to really reflect on the questions she was asking instead of give her something canned. I don't want to sound like I have moved beyond my mission, but I've had a lot of other experiences in my life since coming home that have shaped me in significant ways. I just don't cling to my mission experiences like some people do, because I'm clinging to the experiences of watching my mother get sick and what the resulting grieving process has been like.

As I pondered about significant mission experiences, I thought about the tender people I grew to love. The example of so many members really influenced who I was and who I strive to be. I was also grateful to reflect on how my testimony of Christ's Atonement was changed, both in breadth and depth. I understand the broad, overarching scope of His sacrifice a bit more, and have had resulting experiences to feel and apply its power in my life in myriad ways.

I looked through photographs I took in all of the different areas I served in, and my heart became so full as I saw images of the rolling green hills in Kentucky and Indiana. I was floored as memories came flooding back of testifying in peoples' homes of the reality of Jesus Christ and His restored church. I hadn't felt so connected to my mission in quite a while (like I did here), and was really happy I could write back to that girl I knew in high school and tell her about my true feelings towards a mission. I am forever changed because of it.

Ciro was hands down one of the most important people
I met on my mission. I love him like a brother.

What's interesting is that a mission had never been on my radar. My course was not set in that direction. But God made it overwhelmingly apparent that serving a mission would be the best possible thing for me to do at that time in my life. He adjusted my desired destination and the direction it would require to get there. I didn't understand then just how well He knew me and what I needed until now, three years after the fact, and I'm seeing the ramifications of the decision to follow His guidance.

With that experience fresh in my mind, a few weeks later a tiny thought popped into my brain: I should go visit the Brooks family before their youngest son, Bugsy, flies off to Peru for his mission. I had kicked that idea around with some friends but we never could make it work. I looked at airfare on Wednesday at work and decided I could spend that money. I wanted to go visit them and show Bugsy I cared.

I called their family that night and got a resounding "yes!" when I asked if I should come visit. I booked my airfare, asked my boss for some time off (yeah, that process was a little backwards, haha), and on Friday I was flying to Denver.

I met the Brooks family at the Denver Temple where Bugsy would be going through for the first time. I was thrilled to be able to support him in that experience. I remember how meaningful it was to me to see people I cared about making sacrifices to stand by me as I experienced that joy five years ago in the Gila Valley Temple.

This was the day I received my endowment in July 2011.

What I wasn't expecting was the wave of personal reflection as I sat in the temple that evening. I thought about the first time that I went through, and how little I understood. I thought about talking with my parents in the Celestial Room. I thought about the following weeks, which included shopping trips with my mom for final mission preparations. I thought about my final hug with her on the curb at the MTC. My heart ached.

But what I also felt was a resounding love for the Brooks family, and a resounding love from my Heavenly Father. This scripture came to my mind prior to the session, and it occupied my thoughts all weekend:

THY FRIENDS DO STAND BY THEE, AND 

THEY SHALL HAIL THEE AGAIN WITH 

WARM HEARTS AND FRIENDLY HANDS.

DOCTRINE AND COVENANTS 121:9

I first found that verse years ago and it has always brought me joy to think of the amazing people God has brought into my life. This weekend I prayed each night and gave thanks for the Brooks family. I earnestly hope that when they read that scripture I will have lived and served them in a way that they will feel the same about me as I feel about them. They were warm and welcoming, and I tried earnestly to repay the favor. They have stood by me, and I will stand by them.

Bugsy is going to crush it in Peru!

The weekend was one for the books: I watched Nathan jump out of a plane; I took Bugsy to Smashburger for his last hamburger and fries before heading to Peru; I pushed tables and chairs around; I helped Kristy with the dishes; I heard Bugsy speak and share his testimony on Sunday; I beat the Brooks kids at Phase 10 (to the chagrin of two particular opponents); I ate some wonderful food; I laughed and smiled and reminisced; I was so happy.

I was also grateful that I had been reflecting on my mission recently in my interaction with that gal from high school. I shared mission experiences with Bugsy and did all I could to encourage him. Those final days before getting on the plane are bizarre and anxiety-inducing. They're obviously full of excitement too, but there are nerves that just can't be shaken sometimes. I did all I could to be helpful to him. He didn't necessarily ask for much of what I told him, but I shared it regardless, and hope I could help him look forward to his adventure ahead.

So much of that trip to Denver was atypical for me. I make some impulse decisions now and again, but it typically amounts to some new clothes or a quick run in a thunderstorm or something pretty small. I don't just buy airfare without some planning and some thought. But while I was in Colorado I couldn't help but think that Heavenly Father was recharting my course for the weekend. I needed the Brooks more than I realized. I felt the Spirit in their home. God knew that Colorado would prove important for me, even in a time in my life in which I'm really quite happy.

I hope I've set my bearings for an appropriate course now that I'm back to work here in Arizona. If not, I've got faith they'll be set straight.

I love these people more than I can really say.